


You're Not Alone

by mementomoe



Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cue the Canary Curse if it was a fairy tale too, Dancing, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Fritz is just tipsy because he has a high tolerance, Kinda, Lucette's POV, Nods to Fritz's route, Nods to other routes as well, Pre-Relationship, References to FFIX, Singing, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoe/pseuds/mementomoe
Summary: Lucette hates the fact she needs to be at her father's Wedding Ball. No one seems happy to see her, and her new step-sister is being falsely enthusiastic. She wants to leave, but her fatherrequestedshe stay an hour.Maybe someone can make that hour more bearable.





	You're Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own _Cinderella Phenomenon_ , "You're Not Alone," or the fanlyrics to "You're Not Alone."
> 
>  _Cinderella Phenomenon_ belongs to Dicesuki and is based on a concept by Akirei34.
> 
> "You're Not Alone" was written by Nobuo Uematsu for the game _Final Fantasy IX_ , which is owned by Square Enix
> 
> The fanlyrics are by ErutanMusic on Youtube.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the answers to two asks on the Dicesuki tumblr about the Drunken habits of all the characters and who was most likely to drunkenly flirt with Lucette. It turned out a bit more serious than I intended.

“Princess Lucette Riella Britton, who has chosen to escort herself.”

I hate balls. They’re frivolous times where everyone does their best to one-up each other. It doesn’t help this one comes to honor my father’s marriage. To another woman. Father offered to escort me as I come to the ballroom, or have anyone I wanted to do so.

I refused. If I have to come, I don’t want want anyone to get too close to me. Besides, why do I need someone to walk me ten paces?

I handle it myself, one hand on a rail, the other holding up the side of my gown, as is proper. I see nobles speaking behind their hands, and I know they speak of me. Maybe they think my green dress is inappropriate, maybe it’s just I’m unescorted. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what they think. Mother would be able to ignore them better, not that she would let a ball happen while she was alive.

Once I finish with walking, I slip away to a corner. I came because father ordered me to.

I hear the crier call out my father’s new wife’s children’s names as I hide. I don’t care to speak with either of them. Emelaigne is too friendly to be anything but planning something bad. Rod isn’t terrible, but he’s not much conversation, either. Even now he has a red rabbit that can speak for him.

I can’t leave yet. I have to stay for at least an hour or two, until my presence wouldn’t be missed. Not that I think it is now. The people around me are gushing over Emelaigne’s pink dress and Rod’s suit. How royal they look.

They probably want Emelaigne or Rod on the throne, even though they have no royal blood.

I ignore the wine, and just get a glass of cloudy lemonade instead. I’d rather keep my thoughts on Ophelia to myself, especially since this marriage seemed to be planned over mere weeks. I’ve only met her and her children a handful of times.

The horns sound again when I get a custard tart from a plate offered to me by a server.

“King Genaro Britton the Third and his wife, Queen Ophelia Widdensov-Britton.”

Everyone turns to the entrance. My father is in his finest outfit, and Ophelia looks lovely in a white and gold gown. Not that she should. This is her second marriage. Why does she keep the name of her dead first husband as her own and not use her maiden name? Or just the Britton name?

It doesn’t matter. She won’t replace Mother in my eyes like she replaced her in Father’s. She’s not as beautiful.

I don’t clap like the others do.

They reach the end of the stairs down to the ballroom and the orchestra starts playing a song. Father bows to Ophelia and offers his hand.

She should not need to looks so happy about this. It’s normal for weddings to be like this, I suppose.

“Our parents look lovely together, no?” I hear Emelaigne say. I look over, and she’s standing next to me. When did that happen.

I take a sip of my lemonade. “I suppose Father deserves to love again.” It shouldn’t be with a _baker_ , of course, but an unwed king is dangerous, even with an heir.

“Mother is glad too,” Emelaigne says. “She loved my father, of course, but Rod and I were young when he passed away. I think she wanted to fall in love again.” Her hands are around the glass in her hand, white wine in a red wine goblet. I hope that our servants didn’t make that mistake. It’s easy to tell the difference. “Your dress is lovely, by the way, Lucette.”

I force myself to not correct her about my title. Father’s made it clear that she and her brother are Princess and Prince, even if they keep their father’s name.

“Green looks good on me.” It also is not a color to be worn to weddings. It invites witches and fairies, according to tradition. While that may not have been bad in the past, witches have been known to curse people at gatherings like this, I’ve heard. The last thing my father would want is someone with the fairytale curse put on them at his wedding.

Besides, father had ordered me from wearing my red dress.

Emelaigne frowned for a second before she smiled again. “It contrasts beautifully with your hair, and your silver necklace and crown go nicely with it.”

I wish I could say the same about the pink dress she was in. It was tailored properly, perhaps thanks to my personal servant, but something about the cut didn’t feel right for a royal wedding. It was too common.

“Pink looks good on you,” I force myself to say.

I don’t hear what she has to say next. I’ve done what Father wants from me. Perhaps Rod could invite her to dance as well, since other nobles have joined Father and Ophelia.

The crowds along the walls thin up, with people looking for more food or drink. Some have joined the dancing.

Emelainge is thankfully nowhere near me now. I focus on my tart, instead. I look up at the clock, in hopes of finding out just when I can slip away unnoticed.

I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes. I have most of an hour left until Father says I can. Certainly the guards will notice if I slip away. I do not want to get in trouble for this.

“Princess.”

I look up as I finish my tart, Fritz is there. He’s not in his usual daily uniform, but instead a tabard with the seal of Angielle in it, a rapier that does not look like it’s fit for cutting bread, let alone someone in war, and armor along his left hand.

He also has a slight blush to his face.

“Sir Fritzgerald,” I stammer. “I—I told Genaro I don’t need an escort tonight. I’m just staying for  a while.”

He chuckles. “Only a while? Quite a Cinderella, then.”

Cinderella is one of the few fairy tales I know. I have a time limit, but unlike the cindergirl, I have to stay until that time, not leave by it. A reverse, perhaps.

“I suppose you can say that. Are you on duty tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I was invited as a guest, but was told to dress like the member of Caldira I am. An event like this can always use another in uniform, you know. Especially after what happened with Valiente and Belrott.”

Those were two of the best guards. Mother said knights only wanted to cause bloodshed, but sometimes, I still like to watch them practice. Especially Valiente. She was a woman and one of the best knights. She always seemed to dance as she fought, even as she taught Fritzgerald what was and was not practical.

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say to that. “They were your friends, weren’t they? It’s a shame about what your father says they did.”

I watch Fritzgerald carefully. His smile is a bit wide. “It’s true, but Father is a good teacher as well. I told you about practice the other day. The Battle Royale?”

He hadn’t, but I had heard some guards speak about it yesterday. “You tagged three of the five knights you were against out.”

“I did,” he said. “One had a big fight against another after they tagged a third out, but still, I held myself against the last two for most of the fight. It’s why tonight, I don’t need to be on duty, you know.”

I’m proud of him, but he doesn’t usually brag like this. He’s quite humble, in my experience. The ball had only gone on for some time before my family came. “Is that why you’ve had something to drink?”

“Just a glass or two of sherry,” he says.

A new song starts up and he holds out his hand. “Will you dance with me, Princess?”

I shake my head. I like to think I’m a good dancer. Mother taught me every step I need to know for every important dance, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Not tonight, especially. I haven't ever had a partner in years.

“Very well,” he says. “I’ll just get you something to eat. We can stand somewhere and talk until you want to leave.”

Until I can leave.

He cuts through the crowd and I return to watching the clock as I drink my lemonade.

It’s five minutes later he returns, two custard tarts in one hand, and a glass of something dark in the other hand.

“The music is from an opera,” he says as I take one of the tarts. “In case you wanted to know.”

I don’t. It doesn’t matter to me what they have. “Have you seen the opera?”

“Once,” he says. “With my mother.”

His tone is bitter.

“I still remember every lyric of some of the arias. I’ve read the libretto often, and Mother even taught me to sing.”

I can’t imagine Fritzgerald singing. I don’t know why. He might be good at it. He just is the best guard I know.

“What’s the opera about?” I ask.

Fritz takes a sip of his drink. “It’s about a kidnapping,” he says. “Or what was supposed to be one. When the thief approaches the lady he was paid to take, she begs this thief to take her away from her home. From there, things turn political, as the lady’s widowed mother tries to get her back, and force her to marry a young man of her choosing, and war starts up between the thief’s homeland and the lady’s.”

He continues to tell me the story, with some of his own commentary. He still loves it, even if he makes fun of how it turns out the thief was a kidnapped noble, and the brother of the lady’s betrothed.

“The war kills both brothers,” he says. “After they reconcile. Or so it seems. A year later, a man comes seeking the lady’s hand. It turns out to be the thief, the final words being him calling for the lady with his beloved pet name for her. Mostly happy endings.”

I try to keep a straight face, but I find a laugh escapes my lips. “Perhaps a performance can be made for the palace. Maybe for my eighteenth birthday. I must find the libretto some time.”

Father would probably prefer a traditional ball like this, but he could barely keep me at this one for — I look at the clock — It’s been fifty minutes now. Only ten minutes left. I see Rod and Emelaigne dancing, though something about it is wrong. I don’t think either of them know how to dance for such an event. At the very least, I can tell Emelaigne lags half a beat behind the music in her steps.

“They’re playing the songs in order,” Fritz says. “The next song is one of my favorite arias. Would you dance with me for it?” He has that smile on his face that’s playful.

I don’t know which one it is. He mentioned so many arias I don’t know which it is.

“It’s the one the Lady sings to her beloved thief after he learns that not only is the noble man his brother, but a brother who deliberately tried to kill him. To comfort him.”

It’s like he can read my mind.

“I think you would like the lyrics, Princess.”

“Not here,” I say. “Maybe we can dance outside.”

The weather is warm enough, and the balcony is open. I don’t see anyone there, though.

His eyes seem to follow mine. He bows to me and holds out his hand. “May I, Princess?”

I take his hand. “You may, Sir Fritzgerald.”

He leads me to the balcony.

I look back into the room. Everyone’s eyes are focused inwards, so I don’t feel like i need to close the doors, or even just draw the curtains.

Fritz hums to himself as the song draws to a close. He puts one hand on my back as the other hand is held out with mine.

“Forgot to ask, Princess, but do you know how to dance.”

I just nod my head. I haven’t ever practiced with anyone of late, but I know that I can.

The next song starts up, a cheerful riff comes from the reed instruments, and the violin and viola join in.

Fritz leads me into a quick waltz step. Even with alcohol, he seems to know the steps well enough.

I feel stiff as I remember the steps Mother taught me. After the first few measures, I find Fritz knows them well enough that I remember to just let him lead me.

The melody bridges into a new set of notes, and he starts to sing. “As the storm draws nigh, dreams will shatter before your eyes. Know that you’re not alone. When the battle starts, I will comfort your restless heart. You’ll know that you are home.”

Were those the actual lyrics? They sound beautiful, and while I try to not show it, they do make me feel better. Even if all the lyrics are metaphorical for me, when they weren’t for the thief.

He has a nice voice. How had I never noticed that before? It’s not just that I never thought of him singing like he is here. His voice is always pleasant to listen to. And even if I couldn’t imagine it before, the way he sings is beautiful. Maybe not an opera singer, but he follows the notes perfectly in time, with a warm tenor voice.

He continues to sing along with the melody the strings play. The verses’ darker lyrics, the promise of love in a refrain.

As the song slows down, his eyes narrow, and his cheeks look pinker than they were before. He brings his face close to mine for a moment, but pulls away as he finishes the last line.

“You’re a good dancer,” I say. “It is a lovely song, as well.”

“So, your eighteenth birthday?” He asks.

I nod my head. “I want to see it. I’ll ask my father when it draws closer.”

I hear the clock chime the time. I can leave now.

“Do you need anything?”

I shake my head. I can find my way back to my room just fine. “Thank you, Fritz.” I don’t know what to thank him for, but he made the past hour pleasant. He taught me about an opera, and I learned something nice about him.

“See you tomorrow afternoon, then,” he says. “If you need me.”

I’ll always need him. He makes things feel less lonely.

I just nod my head. “Tomorrow, then,” I say. “Good evening.”

When I get back to my room, I look in the mirror and see a smile on my face. My cheeks are as pink as Fritz’s were.

I won’t forget tonight, but I don’t understand what it means.

I hope Fritz forgets tonight. I feel like a fool. But maybe, I just feel like a good fool.

**Author's Note:**

> The opera Fritz mentions is _loosely_ based on _Final Fantasy IX_. Just no alien plots or magical summon beasts trapped inside the Lady.
> 
> The specific version of "You're Not Alone" played as the two danced on the balcony is something similar to the version played in Distant Worlds III. You can find a link [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYFS4k_qPYc).


End file.
